Stress Relief
by Chamelaucium
Summary: Part 6 of the "Quite, Quite Scandalous" series. Of all the things to die of on this quest, high blood pressure is not Thorin's preferred method of kicking the bucket.


**A/N: Thanks to wrmauney for making me get my skates on and hurry up and post this! I hope you all enjoy and it was worth the wait. I have ideas for at least a couple more but I'm not sure when I'll be able to write/post them. In the mean time, Please Enjoy, and thank you all so very much for all your lovely and supportive reviews and favs/follows! I really appreciate it. :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Stress Relief<br>**

_Part **VI** of Quite, Quite Scandalous_

_Good riddance_ to those poncy, pointy-eared paltroons and their airy-fairy manners. _Good riddance,_ Thorin thought, to the shameless hobbit-stealers and their whimsical ways. He couldn't see the back of them fast enough.

Unfortunately the same could not be said for the hobbit. His face was pinched and he looked like he might cry at any moment, which made Thorin feel more than a little - nope, he wasn't jealous. Not at all.

They left the valley by a steep path (which Thorin saw Bilbo had no trouble navigating on his nimble feet and- _don't think about the ankles_.)

"We make for the mountain pass," he said to no one in particular, seeing as everyone already knew the route they were taking. Everyone except for the halfling, it seemed.

His eyes widened and he looked more than terrified. "I've heard there are goblins there," he squeaked, and how by Mahal could anyone look so cute even as they feared for their life?

"We will avoid them, Master Baggins. We'll pass secretly through the mountains and they shall be none the wiser." Alright, perhaps that wasn't quite true - and the burglar seemed to know that, as a faint glint of disbelief shone in those eyes - but he was _King_. He had a _duty_ to reassure his companions of their safety (he didn't think about the way he'd waspishly snapped at Ori the other day about his journal, and Dwalin had given him the most disapproving look before rushing to comfort the young dwarf - wait a moment... Huh.)

Either way, he was honour-bound to console the halfling,and he was just about to offer him a hand as they navigated the rocks but Bilbo's hands seemed to be suddenly occupied.

With his braces.

Thorin gave an audible swallow as he tried to moisten his mouth, which had gone dry at the sight of the hobbit's pale hands on those braces, a promise of warm smooth skin underneath just ready to be kissed and nipped at and-

_No_, Thorin told himself for what felt like the hundredth time that day (and it was only just dawn). There was nothing inviting about this _at all_ -

Except when Bilbo's hands moved to the clip of the braces, attached to his waistband, and began flicking it open and closed, open and closed, open...

The hobbit was a tease. A racy, saucy halfling who took pleasure in teasing Thorin like this.

Thorin must have made a noise because Bilbo looked at him, frowning.

"Pardon?" he asked, confused.

Thorin cleared his throat and stood a little straighter. "What are you doing with your braces, Master Baggins? Surely this is no place to be getting undressed-"

"Undressed?" he sounded scandalised, but then he looked down at where his hands had just flicked open the catches on the braces again. "Oh. Undressed. I do apologise. I was only... it's a nervous habit of mine," he said quickly. Thorin could only glare at him piercingly - he saw right through this 'harassed' exterior, right through to the core where the hobbit kept all his depraved ideas-

That might have been Thorin, actually. But still, the hobbit was _clearly_ trying to lure him in to his bed roll or Thorin's beard wasn't majestic.

"It's a form of stress relief," the hobbit was saying. "Rather than nail biting..."

Stress relief indeed. Thorin needed relief, and it wasn't from stress, unless you counted the stress on his trousers... No, he knew what the hobbit was up to.

He was _up_ too, but he strode far ahead and gnashed his teeth as he tried to reign in the blood pounding in his ears (and elsewhere) at the hobbit's impure and corrupting and far too tempting antics.

Dear, sweet Mahal. Blessed Maker... He needed that stress relief, and soon.


End file.
